


Point Blank

by Glenorama



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3143858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glenorama/pseuds/Glenorama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asami is a man of many sins, and secrets have a way of revealing themselves. But some secrets are better left undisclosed to a certain photographer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Point Blank

I’ve been with Asami Ryuichi for years. A steadfast companion and a permanent fixture in his life. It is an undesirable relationship, but he needs me. Night after night I laid beside him. Month after month I helped him build up his empire. Year after year I assisted him in silencing his enemies. And I was there when Takaba Akihito came barreling into his life, full of fire and spunk, turning it upside down, and even then my purpose continued unchanged. I remained beside him, hidden from the boy, a dirty secret of sorts.

Even tonight, cast away from my previous position from the bed which has been taken up by Takaba, I am unable to leave as I am kept out of sight. I watch Asami make love to his much younger partner. If anyone were to see them now, their chemistry is undeniable. If anyone questioned Asami’s interest in a mere child twelve years his junior, it would be answered. It is an achingly beautiful scene as the two bodies move in sync in a primitive dance as old as time. The blonde strands mix with the raven ones, smooth ivory limbs tangling with burnished gold until it is impossible to tell where they begin and end. It is brutal. It is gentle. It is perfection. It is all them, and no one else could interfere in the bubble they have created for themselves, isolating them from the rest of the world.

Takaba weeps, from joy or pain or pleasure or all of the above, I cannot tell. Between ragged breaths, he professes, “Love. Love you. Love you, Asami” and repeats them over and over as though he were chanting a prayer. And maybe he is. I have seen the way the boy looks at him with reverence and adoration in those large hazel orbs, the joy that blossoms across his young face.

In response to Takaba’s declaration, Asami does not respond with words but action, so atypical of him. He expresses his devotion to this fragile creature by tightening his hold, driving into the lithe body beneath him, wringing out small cries of pleasure. By this time, Akihito has lost all coherent speech, instead babbling nonsense but still worshipping the man moving above, within him. With a sharp cry, he shatters, and Asami follows him, his own completion marked with a soft sigh. He covers Takaba’s smaller frame with his own, pressing his lips tenderly against the youth’s sweaty brow, raining kisses down, erasing the tears.

He stays until Takaba’s eyes flutter shut, sleep and exhaustion winning. He lingers in the warm aftermath, basking in the comfort of his lover before he extricates himself carefully, drawing up the covers and tucking the photographer in securely. He casts one last look back at the form lying in his bed as he walks away, and it is loaded. Loaded with everything he cannot afford to say and more. It is filled with an affection that would be instantly perceived as weakness by Asami’s rivals. It is a look that has and will never be bestowed upon me.

When he reaches for me, his caresses are clinical, the strokes along my curves business-like. Nothing like the intimacy and heat he shared with Takaba. But it is enough. I do not expect anything more.

* * *

 

The smell of blood is pungent, metallic. But it does nothing to mask the scent of piss and stale sweat, and fuses with them instead. Fear hangs heavy over the occupants of the room. The remaining prisoners stare wide eyed at their leader, or at least what remains of him. One of them bends over and empties his stomach onto the cold cement floor of the warehouse. The reek of vomit only adds to the stench of death that clings to the atmosphere. For some, there is resignation and despair written on their faces whilst others cling to the barest thread for mercy. At the soonest opportunity, the latter will prostrate themselves, begging for their worthless lives to be spared, promising anything.

“I warned him not to cross me,” drawled Asami, deceptively pleasant akin to a parent reminding his or her child of the rules. “I despise traitors.” He circles the body, surveying his handiwork. Bloodlust has seeped into his golden eyes, darkening them.

Crimson rivulets continue to ooze sluggishly from the many cuts and slices littering the body and the detached fingers and toes although the heart has ceased to beat. A pair of eyes rest on the ground, methodically removed as an opener to Asami’s performance, the optic nerves still connected. Not that It can be distinguished that they were ever taken out given the state of the man’s face. As a grand finale, Asami had me graciously end his former employee’s life and put him out of his misery. Now his features are unrecognizable, blasted to pieces in a shower of blood and brain matter from the impact of the shot at such close proximity.

“Remove it.” Asami’s voice is clipped and harsh, and his men efficiently extract the corpse, having done this many, many times. He turns to the quivering mass on their knees, bound and hopeless.

“Now where were we, gentlemen?”

And the crying and pleading begins. It is a grating cacophony as they pass the blame onto everyone else in a frantic last bid to save their skin. Asami has no patience for such theatrics and neither does Kirishima as he pulls the trigger on the man who had managed to cling to Asami’s suit leg by his teeth, rubbing his face against the fine material. They instantly shut up.

This scene is nothing new to me. Because I am special. I have witnessed Asami at his most basic, most raw form—the beast that lurks just beneath the surface. I know an intimate part of the man that not even Takaba Akihito is aware of, and it is a secret between the two of us. No one knows him as well as I do.

* * *

 

This was unanticipated. I can tell in the way as Takaba’s hazel eyes fall on me and widen in shock. “Asami?” He raises his voice in question, confusion and hurt infusing.

“Shhh,” Asami quiets the boy, smothering him in kisses and manipulating his arousal. In a few moments, his thick fingers rapidly thrust into Takaba’s well-lubed channel, scissoring, opening him up to accommodate Asami’s intimidating girth.

Takaba chokes back a cry as Asami sheathes himself fully within the silky wet tightness. Soft moans emit from the younger man’s part lips as his body is laid siege to, reveling in the feeling of being continuously filled.

Asami drags me back into view, and Akihito’s face flushes, and he begins fighting, struggling futilely against the strong hard body pinning him down. “Akihito.” It is a warning, and the photographer stares at him with something that resembles betrayal, tears leaking down his delicate features. “It’s not what you think.”

He presses me against Takaba’s soft, plush lips, and the kid stares at me momentarily, paralyzed and slightly cross-eyed before peeking quickly at his lover for guidance. Hesitantly he pushes back against me and quickly withdraws. Eyeing me cautiously, his tongue flicks out and traces the outline of my mouth. His gaze shifts to Asami’s, seeking approval, and in response, Asami shoves his cock roughly into his ass, setting a torturous pace.

Takaba redirects his attention to me. The delicious friction that burns with each rapid plunge and slide of the massive cock ravaging his insides has unraveled him entirely, and he mindlessly licks and kisses me, all inhibitions and cares thrown out the window.

Asami grunts his satisfaction at the sight of his only two partners in life making out, and Takaba squeaks, feeling Asami’s cock swell even further, stretching his little hole. He slams repeatedly into him, climax just over the horizon.

Takaba’s eyes are glazed over in lust, and he practically devours me. And it is _wet_ and warm and sloppy. One moment later, we part and his body seizes and convulses, cum splattering all over the two of us. Asami groans as Takaba’s tiny ravenous hole clamps down greedily and twitches around his cock, demanding to be fed. In seconds, he obliges with a hoarse shout, emptying his heavy balls into the welcoming heat. The boy continues to spasm as his body weathers the aftershocks of his intense orgasm, wrenching more cum from the cock trapped in the confines of his constricting warmth.

Asami’s great body slumps over his prone form, exhausted and sated, but he is careful not to crush him. It is quiet with the exception of labored breathing.

* * *

 

“You are a fucking dick to bring _that_ in while we’re fucking, fucking bastard!” Akihito rasped, having collected some of his wits.

“It’s a part of me,” answered Asami, unfazed. “My Beretta and I have a history. I know you’re not ignorant to what my occupation includes, Akihito. I simply thought that we’ve reached a level where we can be honest with each other.” He stroked his lover’s rosy cheek with the gun. “If it makes you feel any better, the clip is empty and the safety is on.”

Akihito glowered. “Doesn’t mean you include it with sex.”

Asami smirked. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it,” he purred in the boy’s ear, watching the flush of embarrassment travel up his neck and into his cheeks. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like the element of danger, the adrenaline rush that came with it, the dizzying high at being completely at my mercy.”

He worried his full lower lip. “So what if I did,” he conceded reluctantly. “You just like the idea of me blowing your gun!”

The dark haired man chuckled low in his throat, a sinful sound that re-kindled the embers within Akihito’s belly and to his shame, filled his cock to semi-hardness. “That’s because you blow my gun so well and so enthusiastically,” husked Asami, playing on the double entendre, knowing full well what Akihito’s reaction would be, and he was not disappointed. The boy’s mouth open and closed, and he buried his face into Asami’s shoulder, unwilling to admit it.

But he never ceased to surprise him, because right then, Akihito tipped his head slightly so his lips were right by Asami’s ear and retaliated. “’Cause I know how much you like the sensation of being power,” he whispered, a hint of a smile in his voice. “To play god. You like the headiness that comes from dominating someone who refuses to submit to you.” A tongue trailed along the shell of the businessman’s ear, dipping in and out. “You _like_ me.” He was rewarded with a growl and the quickly inflating cock still inside of him. He pulled back, wiggling, grinding down his hips and grinned impishly at Asami.

“Shoot me right here at point blank, ‘kay?” He winked.

**Author's Note:**

> I just hope it wasn't too obvious who the partner was...u_u


End file.
